A Ranger's Patience
by penpenhooray
Summary: Aragorn has dealt with some shit over the past few years. But a war for Middle Earth is nothing when compared to the dance that Legolas and Gimli were doing around each other. Honestly, everyone in Middle Earth knew those two were in love. But one night after the war, Aragorn's patience runs out, and he goes about making sure his friends sort out their feelings


Aragorn, son of Arathorn, considered himself a patient man. Being raised in Rivendell might have contributed to his usually calm demeanor. And being a Ranger usually demanded a level head (lest you lost yours in an orc raid). And considering the fact Aragorn had lasted this long, he'd like to think there wasn't much that could wear his nerves.

His traveling companions seemed determined to wear on the last iron-strong nerve he had left.

Dealing with the Fellowship had been hard enough when there had been the nine of them. The hobbits were practically defenseless (though bless their innocent little hearts, they tried their best to learn), Gandalf had to go and get himself killed, and then Boromir. Then Merry and Pippin had gotten themselves captured.

But honestly, Aragorn could deal with all of those things. They were easy complications of war.

What was really frustrating, on the other hand, was the never-ending dance Gimli and Legolas insisted on doing around one another.

Aragorn was aware of the thick-headed nature of dwarrow (he remembered from his childhood the tales of the dwarrow who had stopped in Rivendell). And Gimli perhaps the hardest head of them all, with a blinding distrust for elves, and an arrogant confidence of dwarvish strength. Of course, that arrogance had quelled greatly after Moria. Though his distrust of elves had morphed into constant competiton with Legolas.

Not that Legolas was any better. The Mirkwood prince had a ridiculous aloofness that seemed common in Mirkwood elves. Otherwise emotionless, it became apparent that the only joy Legolas seemed to experience came from teasing and needling at Gimli, simply to watch the redhead erupt.

Aragorn simply wished the two would hurry up and get on with it.

"I never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf."

"How about side by side with a friend?"

"…Aye. I could do that."

If Aragorn hadn't been so concerned with leading the last great battle of Middle Earth, he might have rolled his eyes. But he was a bit busy at that moment.

It was a miracle they all survived (at least, the remaining Fellowship). Frodo and Sam especially, though Aragorn really should have learned to expect the unexpected when it came to Hobbits.

The journey back to Rivendell was, thankfully, uneventful. Well, with the exception of the sly glances that Legolas and Gimli kept sending each other; one watching the other when they believed they weren't being watched. Or the instances in which they would watch each other sleep. Or the gentle caresses that were passed off as casual accidents.

It made Aragorn miss Arwen all the more, as well as wish he could smack some sense into his friends.

Honestly.

Arriving back in Rivendell had resulted in a celebration that no doubt was up to Mirkwood standards, if Aragorn could hazard a guess.

Though he wasn't sure how he felt about a drunk Legolas. Drunk Gimli, he knew how to handle, but not so much drunk Legolas.

 _"_ _And then I say to Gimli_ —"

"Legolas, I know what you said, I was there." Aragorn sighed, doing his best to keep the Mirkwood elf from passing out on his shoulder.

" _But he didn_ _'_ _t say anything!"_ Legolas whined, and Aragorn wasn't sure if he could handle much more of that noise.

But then the heir of Gondor spied Gimli across the room. The dwarf was not in much better shape than Legolas (Aragorn was surprised he was still standing). But the sight of his drunken friends gave Aragorn an idea.

"Maybe I should take you back to your room, Legolas. You look like you're about to fall over." Before the elf could argue, Aragorn forcefully lead the Mirkwood prince though the halls of Rivendell to where Legolas was staying. The blond was so drunk, he couldn't even fight off Aragorn as he pushed him onto the bed before leaving the room again.

The party was still raging loudly (Merry and Pippin were dancing on tables again, all eyes were on them as usual), so no one noticed Aragorn as he reached Gimli and separated the dwarf from his ale.

"Oi!" Gimli slurred, taking a swing at Aragorn (though it was so weak, he didn't even feel the impact of the blow), "I was drinkin' that!"

"Not anymore." Aragorn muttered, bodily lifting the drawf and throwing him over his shoulder before heading back down the halls.

"What is the meanin' of this!" Gimli roared, his face bright red and beating his fists against Aragorn's back. "No one carries a dwarf!"

"Just watch me." Aragorn muttered. He made his way to Legolas's room, dwarfish cargo in tow.

When Aragorn opened the door, Legolas was there waiting. Though before the elf could react and attempt to leave the room, Aragorn quickly through Gimli into his arms. Both Gimli and Legolas toppled to the floor, and were both screaming obscenities at Aragorn, but neither could get to their feet before Aragorn had shut the door.

Aragorn wished he had the key that could lock the door, but he had to make due with moving a heavy oak bench in front of the door.

"Do I want to know why you're moving the furniture?"

At the sound of the new voice, Aragorn looked up to face his future father in law. The lord of Rivendell had an eyebrow at his foster son's antics. Aragorn cleared his throat, "Legolas and Gimli…I thought they might need some time alone…"

"I see…" Elrond nodded, before reaching into the pocket of his robes and withdrawing a key, "I don't suppose this would help in your endeavor?"


End file.
